I’m really struggling to do things at the moment.
Last weekend, on a sudden and strange impulse, I joined some friends as they took a Bank Holiday weekend road trip to an event in South West Wales, not far from where my mum was born.
Eschewing the event itself, I saw it as my the first true holiday in over a decade (ie, going somewhere for the sake of going somewhere, rather than to stay with friends or family, or attend a development event), booked a lovely Airbnb, and packed a good book.
Sadly I found no time for the latter and, rather than coming back refreshed, I’ve spent most of my time since returning in a crumpled bed-bound heap, wracked with exhaustion and the sadness that comes from reigniting a sense of isolation and not-belonging born from having high sensitivity, a long-term disabling illness, and mobility issues which leave me trailing behind.
Frankly, it’s pretty sucky.
Feeling out of sorts with the world, drained to the bone, and with my thinking fogged by both fatigue and insecure thinking, for the first few days after returning on Monday I did nothing but sleep or eat. I identified a couple of crucial items on my to-do list, and made sure they were out of the way, and then returned to bed.
It wasn’t until Friday that my inner pilot light flickered again and asked, “Okay, you don’t want to do X, Y, or Z, as they feel too much right now. Let’s put a pin in those, honey. What MIGHT you like to do instead?”
And I found myself remembering that I wanted to assemble a PDF pattern to test some trousers, that I’d bought a Seamwork membership a few months ago and signed up for but was unable to take part in their Design Your Wardrobe programme, and that I could REALLY do with some comfy loose-fitting trousers to wear around the house.
Since then I’ve pulled from my stash a large pile of fabrics, cut out three new projects, and am currently wearing a pair of royal blue cropped linen pyjama-style trousers (made from a tried-and-trusted sewing pattern I’ve used three times), which I only started cutting out yesterday.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still absolutely exhausted. I’m struggling to type this, as my arms feel so weak, But it’s a better kind of exhaustion, the kind born from creativity rather than insecurity, the kind that comes with a side-order of agency and accomplishment.
I might not have the energy to do the things I have deadlines for. But for now, I’m happy to go where the little energy I have can be found.
Photo by Dương Nhân at Pexels